


incubi

by choimiah



Category: GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: M/M, Nightmares, Possible smut, Substance Abuse, even tho i've never seen a full episode?, got7 x bts bc i can, kinda based on steven universe?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 22:13:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choimiah/pseuds/choimiah
Summary: Jimin thought his days of waking up to terror and destruction were over. After a couple centuries roaming the galaxy for a home he's finally found one on Jhad, a medium-sized planet far enough from Earth that he can sleep peacefully most nights. However, recently, his nightmares of his dreadful home planet are returning and change is in the air. What he will have to do is something he never imagined in his wildest, darkest fantasies: return. He has to go back to his old home to save his new one, or lose both.





	1. the bomb squad

**_July 6, 3025--Jhad_ **

 

“Quadrant four. July 6, 3025. The day is dismal. Grey and cloudy. We haven’t had a mission in over a month. Hobi-hyung still owes me forty dollars and has conveniently been on a voyage with squadron six for the last week. Also, Jin-hyung is slowly losing his mind. He’s been drawing numbers into little boxes for the past two hours. Note to self: get help,” Taehyung speaks at the monitor of his wall Glitch and fixes Seokjin with a smart-assy look that would have gotten him a punch square in his chest had Namjoon been around, and he isn’t. Truthfully, Namjoon hasn’t been around since last night. Which is weird because for a man who loves to sleep as much as he does, he missed a full night doing whatever mysterious business he’s been keeping track of in his wrist Glitch.

“I’m playing Sudoku, Tae. It’s a complex mind game that stimulates brain activity the good old fashion way, by actually having to do it myself.” Seokjin puts a two where it shouldn’t be and gets stuck, groaning as he erases it and begins to trace out where he went wrong.

“Call it what you want, hyung.” Taehyung shrugs. “All I see is a grown man and his coloring book. Why do you have that thing anyway? Just get a Glitch and download whatever game you want from Cyberspace’s datacloud. It’s faster and less, um, how do you say, three centuries expired.”

“Which is precisely why I like my dinosaur technology just fine. What do you think’s going to happen with so many devices plugged into the datacloud?”

“Come on, hyung.” Taehyung gets up and goes to jump on his bottom bunk, lying back and kicking one leg up on top of the other. “We’re way past system crashes. The last one happened, what, ten years ago? If that’s what you’re worried about then don’t be. Get a Glitch. Get this century.”

“Get a clue.” Seokjin fills in a four, and then scratches it out with a grunt. “Glitches will realize their namesake yet and then everyone will be running for Quor. Call me a grandpa if you will, but you can’t call me reckless.”

“Well,” Taehyung hums, “don’t mind if I do, gramps.”

Jimin watches all of this from his cozy nest of quilts in the top bunk. It’s your average day in Quad four, pod 3B. Taehyung and Seokjin are holding their daily debate on Quor, the reliable, versus Glitch, the “In”. Hoseok is avoiding all responsibility and catching whatever fun he can on different bases. Jungkook is nowhere to be found and will stay that way until dinner. The only discrepancy in their usual routine is Namjoon, the trustworthy and everpresent glue to their imperfectly perfect machine, being gone. His absence doesn’t fail to set a steady flame of discomfort lit across Jimin’s neck, which was already clammy from his nightmare. Namjoon’s absence always makes Jimin nervous for reasons he can’t explain, to himself or anyone else. 

However, today is definitely out of the ordinary. 

Seokjin may be able to see, but Jimin can feel. 

Whatever bad thing he’s been sensing for months is finally coming to pass and his aid will be needed, and soon. As he does every day, every spare moment he has, he weighs the consequences of telling and not telling them. If his intuition is correct then Namjoon knows as he hardly ever _not_ knows, and all of the things he’s been whispering into his wrist Glitch for the past several nights has everything to do with what is about to happen. Seokjin has his sight, of course. He definitely knows something. It would be odd if he didn’t. As for the rest, he isn’t really sure. Jungkook survives by impulse; he says and does things according to how he feels, which Hoseok can’t always mediate. Telling Jungkook would only ruffle the feathers of everyone. Hoseok without a doubt would try to coat the situation in whatever Hoseok felt necessary and that isn’t always a good thing. There are times when being calm isn’t the solution, rather being active is the right way to go. Taehyung is his own special being on his own little planet all to himself. His thoughts are as unpredictable as his actions. Jimin can’t even guess what he would be like if even word of danger slipped from Jimin’s lips.

And Yoongi…

Jimin hates seeing Yoongi upset the most. When Yoongi is upset he has horrible dreams that the younger can feel on nights when he climbs into Yoongi’s bed after he’s been kicking for a little while. The moaning and sweating is agitating to witness. He’s not Hoseok and so he has no way to manipulate his mood to turn awful dreams into slightly less awful dreams. He’s not Taehyung so he can’t tap into the man’s dreams to locate their source and shut them down in any way.

No, he’s just plain Jimin who only has his healing powers, and those work best when he knows the pain clearly. Yoongi doesn’t talk about what pains him much. Jimin only has his senses to guide him which are subpar at best and worse on days when his own sleep crying drowns out everything else. In the grand scheme, Yoongi is just as volatile as Taehyung. He is part of the unknown. If there’s anything Jimin hates most, it’s not knowing things, especially important things. 

Then again he can’t be sure that what he feels is even going to happen, and on that same thread he’s almost positive that it will. Letting slip of this will result in one thing for everyone: compromised focus. That’s the last thing anyone needs right now. Regardless of how accurate or how sure he is, he decides for the fifth time that week that keeping silent on his ‘notion’ is for the greater good of the community. It may be a coward’s excuse, but it’s definitely one he has to live with for the time being.

Just when Jimin comes to this decision the door to their pod slides open. Jimin lifts his head out of hopeful curiosity. Seeing Namjoon may inflate his spirits. It’s been almost twelve hours now, it would be about time for him to return from whatever business he is conducting. He can’t begin to describe the bittersweet sensation that arises when Namjoon appears, with the Commander standing directly behind him, hand Glitch restless in his square, calloused fingers. The Commander’s hat is pulled low, casting a black shadow over his one good eye and glassy fake. That means one of two things; either Jungkook has been detained, again, and they’re all being called to testify at another redundant trial that only wastes the time of all in attendance, but also, as aforementioned, is redundant because he’s always found guilty and ordered to a night on kitchen duty. Or, something is terribly, horribly wrong and they are being called to do something about it. 

Regardless of the particular occasion, Jimin is anxious anyway. 

“Squad B7.” The Commander’s low, authoritative voice fills the pod’s once silence with thundering noise and tension. “We have a code black. Assemble yourselves and meet me in the Cocoon at 18:00. Grave matters demand our attention.”

Just as quickly as he had appeared, he disappears. 

Namjoon steps inside and dances his fingers swiftly across the keypad that makes the iron door slide shut with a quiet yet heavy noise. The noise signifies something. It means that Jimin is too late. His inner quarrel had been fruitless. Whatever awaits them will be revealed at around six o’clock pm in the Cocoon, with or without his permission. He isn’t sure if he should be happy for being right or terrified of what is to come. If the wrenching feeling at the base of his throat and worming its way up to his blooming headache is any warning then the danger that is looming is one powerful enough to alter their world permanently. 

Jimin’s gem stings. The sharp discomfort spreads across his abdomen like a wildfire. He takes a shallow breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth. He waits for Namjoon to say something.

“What’s up, hyung? Why does the Commander look like they ran out of guac on Taco Tuesday?” Taehyung sits up. 

“Everything will be explained in the Cocoon. Just wait a little,” Namjoon says.

“Joon-hyung, where’ve you been? And what does the Commander want? Why does this feel way weird?” Taehyung asks again. Jimin is glad someone did. He wouldn’t have. 

Namjoon just walks further into the pod, smacking the steel of his bunk bed with his hand that’s perpetually bandaged (doesn’t matter which one) due to his beloved “projects”, and pulls himself up onto the top. Jimin recognizes the look on his face, could even map it out in pitch blackness. Namjoon has a way of broadcasting his emotions while still managing to be completely vague. Jimin knows that he’s feeling _something_ out of the ordinary, he just doesn’t know _what_. As frustrating as that is he remains in his nest of quilts and even has the leisure of closing his eyes. Whatever happens will happen in the Cocoon and it won’t do him any good to look like a raccoon by the face because of the purple rings snug under his eyes. 

He has a sinking feeling, the kind that burns all the way to his chest, telling him that what he sees when he closes his eyes won’t be pretty. Nothing about Earth is pretty. He will have to endure it though; sleep is good, even the awful, restless kind.

  
It only seems like it’s been a couple minutes when Jimin opens his eyes again, images of chewed up corpses and bleeding children fogging his tired brain. Yoongi is hanging over him, all gentle smiles and sweet, warm touches that makes Jimin shiver, if only lightly, at the way he wants to burrow himself in the depths Min Yoongi like a small animal and never resurface to see the light again.

“Hey, Minnie. We gotta go,” Yoongi says softly.

“Is it that time already?” Jimim groans.

Yoongi nods.

“Is everyone even back yet?” 

“Yeah,” Yoongi says. “We tracked down Jungkook and Hoseok is due in a couple of minutes. He’s going to have to beat Taehyung to the Cocoon if he wants to keep those forty bucks, though. It was kinda dumb of him to think he could slide any wool over Tae’s eyes. He’s practically half-computer. He forgets nothing.”

Jimin laughs easily. “Right? Hoseok-hyung is dumb.”

“Mhm,” Yoongi hums. “Hoseok is dumb. You ready?”

Jimin shakes his heads and makes the whiney noises from the back of his throat that he can’t help. Half of him wants more sleep, the other half wants to chase away the nightmares with consciousness, and all of him wants Yoongi to kiss it better. He settles with the hand the older extends for Jimin to take. He revels briefly in the soft, smooth palm that slides against his for the shortest of seconds, and then it’s gone. Jimin has one leg over the side of the bed when Yoongi shakes his head with ‘are you kidding me me’ eyes. 

“For a healer, you’re pretty reckless with your own body,” Yoongi says and gives Jimin’s butt a soft pat. “There’s a ladder for a reason.”

“This way is quicker,” Jimin argues, leg still over the edge and dangling.

“Please? For my sanity?” Yoongi begs.

Jimin cares too much about Yoongi’s sanity, very possibly more than he does for his own. He uses the old ladder and the two walk out of the pod together after Yoongi picks up his wrist Glitch off the desk. 

The quadrant is bustling as usual. Men and women are pushing carts down the hall in both directions, endless. The elevators at both ends are running in cycles as groups take them up and down. Yoongi and Jimin take one all of the way to the twentieth floor, the highest one, and step off. The Cocoon is a circle room with high ceilings that slope at the sides and come to a point in the center, titanium from top to bottom and most often below freezing as it sits pretty high in the clouds. Jimin can feel the draft even a decent ten feet away from the sealed doors protected by two guards who are standing pencil straight and alert. Jimin is grateful for Yoongi speaking when they arrive, both sets of eyes glaring at them, stern and beady. 

“The Commander called for Squad B7,” he says without so much as blinking. 

“Codes?” one of the guards barks. Jimin and Yoongi both hold out their left wrist wordlessly. The same guard unhooks a hand Glitch from his belt and holds it over one wrist and then the next, nodding them in after they both get a green light. The other guard taps some combination on a wall Glitch and the doors rumble quietly as they slide open. 

“We’re all here now,” Jimin hears Namjoon say before they even step inside. The two hustle to complete the circle surrounding the control panel in the middle of the room. 

“B7,” the Commander says, waving his hands in an important manner as his eyes flutter over all of them, settling on Jimin longer than the rest (slightly creepy, but whatever). “ Do any of you recall the motto we live by? The motto we founded every base on Jhad upon? Hm? Anyone. Come on, now is no time to be shy...Jungkook!”

Jungkook flicks his eyes from the floor, chest rising and falling with a deep breath, and then he’s looking at the Commander. “Jhad, home to Glitch, taking what was once broken and making it beautiful again. How can we forget? You remind us, oh, I don’t know, every few minutes. It’s at the top of every notice sent out. It’d be printed into the toilet paper if you had control over that as well. It’s pretty grained in by this point. Oh, and speaking of points, do you happen to have one?”

“Always the impatient one, Jungkook. Can’t we ever just banter like the good ole’ days?” The Commander grins, obviously pleased with himself for some reason only he knows. “It’s all about give and take, Jungkook. You have a nice fire, it’s just misdirected.”

“Screw give and take, and the ‘good ole’ days’ are gone. I got this far by being a fighter, not by listening to you yap about the good ole’ days. Now, who do you want us to fight?”

“Jungkook, you’re being rude.” Namjoon clamps one hand down on Jungkook’s shoulder with a warning look. The younger huffs.

“It’s alright, Namjoon. I’m used to his temper. He’s right. It’s about time I got to the point.” The Commander pulls up an image of the solar nexus. The papery, virtual images hang suspended between all of them.

“This is the point.” He zooms in on Earth. “We thought that we were done with Earth. We didn’t have to worry about an invasion during the old regime. However, a new one is rising quickly, more quickly than we could have predicted. It’s based in what is left of Korea and has connections all across the Atlantic and Pacific. Basically, it’s the renewed Empire and it’s all being led by a group of survivors who call themselves the Seven Falcons.”

“So, you need us to fuck up some punks on Earth?” Jungkook smirks. “Done.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” the Commanders says, shaking his head and looking off. “Namjoon can step in here.”

“Is this about whatever you were typing in your wrist Glitch?” Jimin leans over the control panel and fixes his eyes directly on Namjoon, who takes the Commander’s place as the older man wanders over to the glass wall overlooking the clouds.

“We tried negotiating.” Namjoon shakes his head, sighing heavily. “We assured them that they could have Earth without having to fear interference. Jhad, Fahn, and Phasi, all parts of the Tri-ring agreed to it. But they’re armed insurgents. They didn’t become that way by heeding agreements. We may mean no harm, but they certainly do. Their goal is total domination any way they can get it. We can’t afford another war. Our best bet is to stop them while they’re on Earth. Our assignment is to find out where their power comes from and strip them of it before they breach the border of the Tri-ring.”

“We have to go to Earth?” Jimin can already hear bones crunching underneath his boots.

“Yes, Jimin, and we’re going to need you most,” Namjoon says. “We need to be together, strong, and healthy.”

Jimin had suppressed all of it, and in one moment, with one word, the lid that he had practiced shutting tightly over the years comes flying open. Out of it comes his worst and scariest nightmares. 

Screaming children.

The stank of blood and human waste.

No remorse.

No regret.

No looking back. 


	2. hell in realization

_**July 23, 3025--California to South Korea, Earth** _

 

'Hollywood' is what the large sign says when they first arrive in the barren land. The same fluttering that had once captured his chest when looking at pictures of it from his room in a South Korea far away from his nightmares is different from what he feels now. The fluttering used to be full of excitement and expectation that he would one day fulfill his dream of dancing his way across the world and wind up in a penthouse overlooking the white-capped, bubbling sea. Now the only sensation that registers is a dull ache where his aspirations used to live in his chest and a pain ready to flare should he lean on his knee the wrong way. Dancing is gone. The sea is murky and surely full of dried blood and other human parts that have yet to dissolve into the seafloor. The sign is half melted and overrun with moss and profanity. It's lost its sparkle.

It's also winter, which only serves as a bad omen. People freeze to death in the winter. Cold weather, poverty, desperation. All things that strike chords somewhere within Jimin that he doesn't appreciate.

This is where their journey must start. Jimin had hoped Namjoon would land in a forest somewhere so they could at least see a tree up close. There aren't many left. Instead, he landed here, in a web of broken pain too complex for him to explain. It is unarguably the safest place to be seeing as anywhere that actually has trees left is sure to be dominated by a gang or something else. But Jimin is still at least allowed to wish.

All of them are holed up in an abandoned building somewhere that has Chinese lanterns hanging from the ceiling and other trinkets plotted about. It could have been beautiful once, but everything is covered in dust and grime so it blends in with the grey and smog outside. Jimin believes they are on the street where all of the famous people went and signed their names into the ground. He can't recall the name because his life on Earth is a blur. He can't remember who he was friends with, the places he liked to hangout, or if he was even that way at all. It is very possible that he just sat in his room and talked to the walls.

All he knows are the signifigant points and what he can salvage from his dreams. They are so horrible at times that he wakes with a start, seeing only red and sweating profusely. However, sometimes they are mild enough to the point where he has the leisure of trying to decipher things. If he's lucky he comes away with something that is important enough to write in a journal he keeps. It's still mostly empty and he isn't quite sure if that makes him upset. There may be things he wants to remember. For instance, he must have had a family at one time. He may have even loved them very much. It's very unfortunate that most of what comes to him in vivid detail has to do with suffering and war. Everything he would do anything to forget is all he remembers and anything possibly worth remembering is forever a maze he lost the map to, locked in a part of his brain determined on lying dormant, for some reason.

"We need a plan," Namjoon says resolutely, sinking into a chair he pulled from somewhere, legs sandwhiching the back. His posture is straight as usual, but something deep in his voice says that he's just as nervous as the rest of them, despite Hoseok's interferrance. Which reminds him...

"Hyung, can you knock that off?" Jimin shoots Hoseok an annoyed look, who just grins stupidly and apologizes in response.

"I can't help it," Hoseok says. "Everyone is so tense. It's suffocating."

"That may not be such a bad thing right now. We need to stay on guard at every moment. Fear is protection. It keeps people alive." Namjoon adjusts his black shades, casting a look at Jimin before turning to Hoseok. "Which is why if you could lay off the manipulation, Hobi, that'd be a big help."

Hoseok rolls his eyes, dropping his head on the red leather booth he's sitting in with a groan. "Fine. But if Jungkook starts punching stuff or yelling about anything I'm shutting that shit down. No question."

"And that would be appreciated," Namjoon says. "So, plan anybody?"

A silence settles after that. Everyone is looking at everyone else and no one is saying anything. It feels like an eternity has passed when Seokjin speaks up from a stool beside Namjoon. His eyes are slightly unfocused as if he's staring into a heavy fog, but his voice is steady and clear.

"The Seven Falcons know we're here. They're on guard. They will be expecting someone soon. Any plan that includes surprise won't work." His eyes clear and he's blinking down into his lap then, serious and focused. "I have an idea. But, we have to send the right person or it'll be all for not."

"Send?" Namjoon sits up straighter.

Seokjin looks over at him and nods. "We have to send someone there. Gain their trust and all. That sort of thing."

"Alone?" Namjoon asks, lips curving into a light frown.

"Sending more than one will be risky," Seokjin explains. "More than one might come off as an attack. One, however, is vulnerable. Vulnerable is what we need. That's what will make this plan work. Someone goes in looking vulnerable. We bank on the fact that not all of them are heartless and at least one will want to help. The decoy spends a little time with them, learns how they function, and reports back. That's the safest route that has any chance at success."

Jimin really hates the large turn this is taking. The one thing that kept him from spiralling into a pit of despair at the mention of their expenditure was that they would stay together, and strong. Seokjin's plan to split up as soon as they arrive causes Jimin to choke up a bit. He grows even darker with each nod and murmur of approval.

"So we send someone." Namjoon shrugs. "The question is, who?"

Seokjin stares directly at Jimin and the younger's chest tightens at the silent plea written on his face. The expectation.

"There's no way we're sending Jimin," Yoongi says. The anger in his voice surprises even Jimin. He looks over at the man and is shocked at the roughness in his face suddenly. "They will hurt him. You can't send him."

"It isn't exactly safe for any of us," Seokjin says.

"Yeah, but Jimin-"

"Just send me." Jungkook jumps up out of his chair, excited and impatient as usual. "I'll be in and out."

"No," Seokjin says. "The point isn't being in and out. And we need someone who can control their emotions. Someone who knows how to be discreet and thinks before they speak. A fly on the wall while being there at the same time. Jimin can do all of that. Plus, he can heal himself."

Seokjin fixes Jimin with a smile the younger is finding it difficult to return. "He's perfect."

"No. We can't send him."

"Hyung, it's okay. I'll go," Jimin says. He's really growing a pair here.

"We can't lose you." Yoongi shakes his head, closing his eyes briefly before opening again to unleash a wave of emotion that hits Jimin in the gut. "I can't lose you, chim. I'd be lost. If anything happend to you...I, I wouldn't be able to-"

"I can take care of myself, hyung."

Lie.

"I'm not as breakable as you think."

All lies.

"Will you really be okay, Jimin?" Namjoon asks. "No one knows what's out there. This is all a hunch and a hope. This is dangerous stuff."

Jimin wants to laugh and cry. He knows dangerous. He knows scary. If anything, he was born for this sort of thing. He doesn't say any of this, though. Just nods looking like everything he truly isn't, strong, sure.

"I'll be fine." What a funny joke.

"Okay." Namjoon claps one hand on the top of the chair. "We send Jimin. That's the plan."

"This is a bad idea. I can feel it," Yoongi grumbles.

"Do you have another one?" Seokjin sends him a hard stare. Yoongi relents some, face loosening. He doesn't reply, though. The answer is clear. This is the best they can do. This is dangerous and real and all they have is hope. Hope is stupid. It's fickle and weak. Jimin hates having nothing but hope.

They leave the building not long after sewing up some loose ends. The six of them will stay in a few separate buildings across town in order to be within the vecinity while laying low at the same time. Seokjin says that he'll know way in advance if danger is approaching and they'll be there to get him out. Jimin can't say that he takes full comfort in this. Seokjin is no machine. He is affected by things as they all are. He can't know everything, not nearly as much as he thinks he does. The universe is full of pockets and holes for things to slip through. Events are relative, as is time. Nothing is set. It isn't possible to know everything.

Of course he doesn't doubt aloud. Someday Jimin will. That day isn't today. He nods and goes along with it so no one gets hurt. He also cherishes Yoongi's presence near him which is heavier than usual. He ignores how it is mostly because he'll be leaving soon and that Yoongi has his worries. He just falls into the temporary comfort as it will soon be gone.

The sky is a deep indigo by the time they reach their ship again. Namjoon climbs in alone. He is inside just for a minute typing some commands into the system before a soft rumble erupts into the night. It takes a couple of minutes for their ship to bend itself, but once it's done it looks just like a regular SUV. The only oddness is the sleek black coat that will never spoil and the glowing controls that hum occasionally after getting in. Jimin slides all of the way into the back, and it's no surprise when Yoongi follows him. Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jungkook get in the seats ahead of them, and Seokjin and Namjoon get in the front.

The engine growls to life, quieting to a nearly silent thrum afterward. The only lights are the headlights as they drive forward.

"Jungkook, can you give us some cover?" Namjoon asks.

Another hum is added when a ruby shimmer shrouds the outside of the truck, only visible from the inside.

Jimin sinks into Yoongi's chest and closes his eyes with a quiet sigh, savoring the delicate, warm fingers sweeping his bangs off of his forehead anf running their pads across his temple. He needs this soft Yoongi all of the time.

Jimin tries to fall asleep with the help, and he does, eventually. The strange part is that he doesn't have a good or bad dream. He dreams of nothing. That only happens when Jimin is so overwhelmed that the only way to cope is to shut down and attempt some type of recharging.

He wakes up some time before dawn. The sky is still full of deep shadows and only a portion of light has breached the thick layering of darkness. Yoongi is out cold beneath him, a twitching mess, but that much Jimin can handle confidently. It's the shaking that terrifies him. That's also something that worries him. Who will hold Yoongi when he's too scared to move? Jimin won't be there. He'll be somewhere with his own worries, too occupied.

The slight movement beneath him tells Jimin that Yoongi is awake before he speaks.

"Chim?"

"Yeah, hyung?"

"Get ahold of a Glitch and run if anything even feels funny. I'll meet you anywhere. Anytime."

Jimin grins. "Quor's more reliable, though."

Yoongi's soft chuckle vibrates through Jimin's fingers. "You're right."

Yoongi massages his hand up Jimin's neck and drapes his fingers there, light but sure. He tilts his neck, forcing Jimin to look up at him. His eyes are always a terrible mystery, telling some things while keeping other things hidden. Jimin thinks he seems worried, apprehensive, and something else. There's the mystery.

"You're going to be okay," he says. It sounds like he's mostly trying to convince himself.

"I'll be okay," Jimin echoes.

"Bite them if they try to touch you."

"I will." Jimin laughs.

Yoongi blinks back some glossy tears.

"What am I going to do without my chimchim?"

"Do me a favor, hyung, and don't give me a reason to worry."

"I should be saying that." Yoongi pretends to be offended.

"Yeah, well I'm saying it."

Yoongi cocks his head in a manner that makes Jimin want to implode. His throat is hot suddenly. He dips in slowly, giving Jimin plenty of time to back out. He would never, especially when Yoongi initiates it. He's too busy freaking out internally to think farther than the soft bow of Yoongi's lips. When their mouths actually press against eachother, careful and not at all enough, Jimin cranes his neck to get more friction, any way he can get it. His stomach is kicking up a terrible fuss and his face is probably as bright as a tomato.

Yoongi must feel their dawning partimg because he doesn't even pull away when Jimin pushes an insistent tongue against his lips, just opens them with a quiet moan and bumps his nose accidently against Jimin's in his haste to get into a better position.

A yawn and grumbling is what causes Yoongi to pull away, breathing heavily and looking slightly alarmed. Sadness burrows in Jimin at Yoongi's expression, a mix between regret and confusion. The worst part is that he sees longing as well, which makes everything that much more frustrating for Jimin. He knows that on some level Yoongi wants this as well. Something is holding him back. He doesn't know what, though.

"We're here," Yoongi says, face still confused but marginally more serious and distant. Jimin nods and sits up. It's true he realizes as he looks out of the window. The familiarity washes over him. Buildings and waste. All very familiar. He possibly has never even been here, in this particular part, but he recognizes the scenery that's surely identical in many other parts. The snow and perpetual greyness can't hide what once happened here. Remnants of rhe destruction are littered all over. All mirror images of what Jimim wakes up sweating and crying from. He swallows the bile that burns its way up his throat and tries to calm down, or look it from the outside.

The truck comes to a stop and Namjoon turns back to him, shaking his head lightly. "Sorry, Jimin. You'll have to walk from here. You also have to lose your Glitch and your coat. Buck up, kid."

Jimin nods, slipping out of his coat.

"Your Glitch?"

"I left it," he says. "I didn't want it anyway."

Namjoon nods. "Okay, that's fine. They definitely have some technology. Use it on the DL if you have to. Like we said, we're gonna be way ahead of you on any danger. Don't worry about that and just get whatever information you can."  
"Okay."

"Be safe, Jimin."

"I will."

He gets out then, climbing over Taehyung to get onto the sidewalk. He spares one last wave at the truck before turning and beginning to walk. His boots crunch in the snow and he shivers violently.

He walks for some time.

Namjoon's sure 'they will find you' to his question of how he is supposed to find them is still rattling around his head when a black truck rolls slowly toward him. He tries to keep his heart from sinking when it comes to a stop, engine still running. He plays up the shivering a bit.

"You lost?" A deep voice shouts at him from across the street. Jimin channels all of the fear bottled in him and hopes he looks as desolated and helpless as he feels. It helps that he feels like actual crap.

Convincing.

Jimin doesn't say anything at first. He juat stares and that of course prompts the man to ask the question again, more urgent. Jimin stumbles purposely. He's holding himself like he is the only thing that is real on the planet. He lets out a few haggard coughs and stumbles again.

"Are you good?" The man rushes up to him then, hovering skeptically with his hands out to catch Jimin should he fall. And that's exactly what he does. He only feels the moist sting of snow for a moment before arms haul him up, shaking him and hurling questions. He doesn't answer any of them with more than a moan and occasional grunt, eyes closed. He's quite proud of his performance.

"Shit!" the man shouts. "Yugyeom! Get out here!"

A door opens and heavy feet approach.

"What the hell. Is he dead?" This new voice is definitely younger, full of bass still, but not as...rough?

"No, but he's out of it. Put him inside. I'm going to call Mark."

He switches arms. His feet leave the ground and his cheek bangs into a stiff chest. A breath leaves him. He ends up surrounded by heat and worn upholstery. He is laid horizontal across a backseat, he presumes.

A door closes.

He deems it safe to peek. The only thing he can see from his position is dark interior and headrests. Nothing of importance sticks out. He closes his eyes again.

The one thought that crosses his mind after two doors close and open, one after another, is that he's scared out of his mind and utterly alone.

It hits him then.

He's entering the lion's den.


End file.
